


Finally

by naboru



Series: IDW/TAAO Combaticons [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 22:59:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11262783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboru/pseuds/naboru
Summary: Onslaught gets help from Vortex and finally realises something important.Set after TAAO #10. It contains hints to the issue, so please don’t read if you don’t want to be spoilered. :) Also contains mentions of Spotlight: Arcee, The Transformers Ongoing (2009-2011), and Revelation.Also set beforeA Step Forward.





	Finally

**Author's Note:**

> Continuity: IDW G1, post TAAO #10  
> Rating: PG  
> Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing.  
> Beta: sammyphoenix *glomps*

Onslaught was exhausted after their brief unconsciousness. Which hadn’t been that brief at all. Starscream had told them they had been out for over a day.

At least there hadn’t been any lasting damage, though their hope that combining with Swindle would help him was destroyed. They were able to combine, but Onslaught needed to figure out if he could find someone else for their team. He wasn’t comfortable using Swindle without his consent, even if medics said he didn’t feel anything, and would never again be able to give consent.

Onslaught’s jaw clenched. He would need to talk to Starscream about that. Maybe he could convince their boss that combining wasn’t a good idea in the first place. They were more effective separated.

“Is there anything else?” Onslaught asked into the briefing room. He’d made notes of his team’s condition, thoughts, and sensations during their time combined.

They all looked worn out.

Brawl was twitchy. He tapped his foot on the ground. The pace made Onslaught angry, but he resisted telling him off. Vortex was like always. He seemed awake and paying attention, but his slightly wilted rotors told Onslaught he was only masking his state of mind.

Blast Off was quiet and uncomfortable. The shuttle had been teasing before, but now he wore his mask again, and Onslaught couldn’t help but be disappointed. He planned to talk to him in private later, but he didn’t have a reason. Sure, he was his boss, he shouldn’t need a reason. Though, telling him that he just wanted him close for another moment would be rather odd. Not to mention that Onslaught wasn’t sure why he was thinking about Blast Off like this in the first place.

“Can we go now?” Brawl asked when no one replied.

Onslaught gave a nod. “You’re dismissed.”

“Thank frag!” Brawl was the first on his feet. “Let’s get us some high grade.”

Blast Off followed. “Brawl,” the shuttle sighed on their way out, “I don’t think you should drink that much…”

“Awww, c’mon,” was the last Onslaught heard before the door closed. Vortex was still sitting in his chair.

“Is something the matter, Vortex?” Onslaught sighed. Whenever the rotary stayed, it meant trouble - in one way or the other.

“Can we have a word?” Vortex asked, as he stood up. He sounded serious.

Onslaught suppressed a deep vent of air. As expected, it must have been something Vortex observed and didn’t want to discus with everyone. The ‘copter often noticed more than anyone else, seeing as it had been his job in Intel before and during the war.

Onslaught leant back and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He had his full attention on Vortex, and the other knew it. “Out with it,” he said, and waited.

Stepping a little closer, Vortex didn’t sit back down. Instead he just stared at Onslaught for a moment, his red visor bright. His look was intense, searching, and Onslaught shifted slightly without his conscious intent.

“You were staring at Blast Off,” Vortex finally said.

It was not what Onslaught had expected. “Excuse me?”

“You were finally looking at Blast Off.”

Onslaught frowned. “You don’t make sense.”

“I don’t? Weird, I thought you realised by now.” Vortex frowned. “I was wrong then? Do I need to step in anyway?”

“What are you talking about?” Onslaught’s engine rumbled.

“Seriously, and here I hoped you finally got a grip on yourself. I actually wanted to give you some advice. Guess it’ll be a different kind of advice now,” Vortex sighed, and shook his head. He even looked angry. “I’m talking about you and Blast Off. You were looking at him today the way you only did when _he_ wasn’t looking.”

Onslaught’s optics rebooted, but he didn’t interrupt Vortex.

“I thought you finally would act on it, but apparently you’re still clueless, so I’m putting it bluntly,” Vortex huffed. “Do something. I don’t know what, invite him to your office and frag him on the desk, or take a shower with him and frag him against the wall, I don’t care. But if you don’t do anything soon, I will!”

Onslaught stared at the ‘copter in shock. “What the…” He was speechless. Not only because of Vortex’ lack of respect, but also because the image of Blast Off lying on his desk with his panel open did weird things to him. His jaw clenched. “What do you mean you will do something?” he ground out, just to say something.

Vortex shrugged, his rotors bobbed. “I don’t know. Invite him to a date, swap cables? _Something_. Anything that gives him a break from thinking about _you_. He’s been running after you and trying to get your attention for _ages_ ,” Vortex snapped. “And he deserves better than that. I mean, it’s not like you don’t like him. Brawl and I honestly thought with the war over, you’d finally get your slag together and realise what’s up with you two, and today I thought it had finally clicked.” Vortex crossed his arms and crocked his hip. “Looks like I was wrong.”

Onslaught could only stare.

“Look,” Vortex continued. “Blast Off’s been interested in you in _that_ way for I don’t know how long. And you in him, too. Just sadly, Blast Off dropped only tiny hints you never caught, and you were too focused on tactics and war stuff to listen to your own spark.”

“That’s nonsense!” Onslaught grumbled. He’d known if he’d been, well, interested in anyone if that’d been the case.

“Nonsense? Really?” Vortex laughed coldly. “You remember Garrus-9? He got stabbed, and in the chaos, you didn’t notice. He was lucky Arcee didn’t cut him in halves, or more pieces. I dragged him back to the ship, and only there did you see what had happened and you flipped.” Vortex glared at Onslaught. “You punched _me_ , and were impossible for days, because you were worried.”

Onslaught’s hands clenched to fists, but he didn’t interrupt, because he couldn’t deny it.

“You’re never that cranky when I or Brawl are hurt that badly. You still remember Earth? Before that, you’d sent Blast Off to a mission in space somewhere. He’d tried to warn you about the conditions, he did, carefully. Because, you know, he didn’t want to get in your bad books, and he wanted your attention and praise. But things went down, because of radiation or other space slag I have no idea about. He was in forced stasis in our ship to recover while we were on Earth, selling us to humans. And you were completely out of it. Like, you were a total wreck and not like yourself.”

Vortex engine revved, and his field flared strong enough that Onslaught felt it. Anger and disappointment were rich in it. “You’re so helpless with your own emotional slag, you only give Blast Off the attention he wants when he’s unconscious, because you worry and don’t know why. You even mostly kept him off the front line, and don’t think we didn’t realise. Your excuse was he’s a bad close combat fighter, and we all know you’re wrong. You just don’t want him to get hurt, and you don’t want to worry about him, but you’ve never thought about _why_.”

Vortex shook his head. “Vector Sigma,” he growled and raised his hands like the ceiling had all the answer. “What the frag is wrong with you? The war is over. Move on, give him a hug, or a good frag, or both, because, Primus knows, that’s what you two’ve wanted for ages.”

Onslaught had honestly no idea what he should reply. The disrespect was one thing, but the realisation that had begun to dawn in him today, being spelled out to him like that, was humiliating.

“So,” Vortex added, his glare was back. “You better step up your game, or I will. If Blast Off doesn’t get the attention he so desperately wants from you, I’ll make him realise that there are other people who actually care about him. Whose attention is worth more than the pity show you give him.”

Onslaught tensed, and glared as well. The idea that Vortex would be intimate with the shuttle made him unreasonably angry. “Why do you care anyway?” Onslaught spat.

“I care because we’re team. We’ve been fighting alongside for ages, and we’re like Amica Endura. Just without the sentimental spark stuff.” Vortex crossed his arms again. “I don’t want any of us to be miserable, and you’re not helping.”

Onslaught raised his optical ridges. It was odd to hear that from Vortex, who was undeniably crazy and a sadist, but with the ‘copter, you never knew. For once, Onslaught thought he was telling the truth.

“Make an effort,” Vortex said, as he turned and went to the door. He was out without another word, and Onslaught just stared after him.

Scenes played in his head, after Garrus-9, on Earth, before Earth, during that time they fought alongside Autobots to stop those weird portals. He remembered his efforts to keep Blast Off from the front lines, and how it had earnt him comments from Bludgeon or other superiors. He thought about when Brawl had been with Soundwave a while back, and how he hadn’t been worried much, or in a bad mood.

Onslaught leant back and rubbed over his battle mask. He thought back to today, when he’d woken up and Blast Off had been there, a grin on his face. He’d liked it, and he wouldn’t mind if it happened again.

“Frag,” he muttered.

Vortex was right with everything he’d told him. He was running out of time, too. Vortex was easy, could be charming and pleasant if he wanted. Onslaught didn’t want to lose to him, now that he realised he wanted to win something.

And Blast Off had waited for Onslaught long enough.

He needed a plan, a good one that could be executed starting tomorrow.

Onslaught took a datapad and began typing. He’d wasted enough time.


End file.
